


blue flame

by pansystan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Pansy is Darcy and Harry is Elizabeth, Pride and Prejudice References, Regency, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-06 13:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17940272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansystan/pseuds/pansystan
Summary: A noble family of great fortune was moving to Hertfordshire; for the Weasleys, who had several sons and not nearly a fortune large enough for them all, this was extremely happy news.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Love's Folly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7710487) by [waroftheposes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waroftheposes/pseuds/waroftheposes). 



> One day I will write something that both isn't Hansy and isn't a Jane Austen AU, but today is not that day.
> 
> This is also inspired by a Pynch P&P AU, Love's Folly by waroftheposes, which I have linked.

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look

or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago.

I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

\- Jane Austen, **Pride and Prejudice**

 

It was Hermione who broke the news as it always was — she had always been the first to know anything. The news was this: that a noble family of great fortune was moving to Hertfordshire. They would be taking residence at Kingsdown and had two daughters, both of whom were rumoured to be exceedingly handsome and set to inherit 7,000 pounds each.

For the Weasleys, who had several sons and not nearly a fortune large enough for them all, this was extremely happy news.

“Oh but Mr Weasley, you must visit them immediately once they arrive!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed, “For they may not introduce themselves if you do not form the acquaintance first.”

“And why, my dear, must I do that?” He replied good-naturedly.

“Just think of the boys, Mr Weasley!”

“What of them?” Mr Weasley asked although he knew very well what his wife meant.

“You know I am thinking of their marrying one of them!” Mrs Weasley admonished her husband.

“Why but one?” Mr Weasley teased, “There are two daughters, are there not?”

Harry Potter watched this exchange with an amused expression, thankful only that Mrs Weasley was not his natural mother and could make no such arrangements on his account.

“Do you think they’re as handsome as everyone says?” His best friend, Ron, asked his own expression one of mute horror.

“If they are really set to inherit 7,000 pounds apiece I hardly think it matters,” Harry replied.

Beside them, Hermione harrumphed. “I should like to think there is more of a lady than her looks and her inheritance,” she said, tossing her unruly curls over her shoulder. “Don’t you agree, Ginny?” She asked, turning to Ron’s younger sister for concurrence.

“One must hope so,” Ginny replied. “Since I am not in abundance of either.”

This was not strictly true. Whilst Ginny’s inheritance was little, her looks demanded a modicum more praise than she lent them. She possessed a very enviable complexion, however, freckled easily in the sun, which she was loath to stay out of.

“When do the Greengrasses arrive, mama?” Percy asked, always the one to restore order.

“A fortnight hence,” Mrs Weasley replied, glad for the news to be receiving appropriate attention from at least one of her children, natural or otherwise.

“Then we must attend them immediately when they do. I will come with you, papa.”

“Very good, Percy,” Mr Weasley replied. And the conversation was thus concluded.

 

So it was that two weeks later Mr Weasley and Percy donned their great coats and set out for Kingsdown.

“Better take the carriage,” was Mrs Weasley’s advice. “It would not do for you to arrive on horseback. It is but a little way for Edgar to take you and it shall make the correct impression.”

The carriage was ordered and father and son were soon on their way.

“I wonder that the two ladies might come to the Macmillan’s ball on Wednesday,” Mrs Weasley said, taking up her needlework. “Ginny, Hermione dear, come and sit with me.”

Ginny glared at her own embroidery but knew better than to argue.

“I’m sure ma'am,” Hermione ventured, “that if the Macmillans become acquainted with the Greengrasses then they will all be in attendance come Wednesday.”

“I dare say you’re right, my dear. I see that you have been working on your needlepoint. More’s the better, I would say — a husband admires such pretty skills in a wife.”

The wait for Mr Weasley and Percy’s return was passed in agitation. Fred and George, two of the middle sons, having less interest in these young women of consequence than even Harry or Ron could muster, had left on horseback not long after their father and were yet to return. Mrs Weasley kept Ginny and Hermione to their needlepoint and gossip, unwilling to leave the house to pay calls until she had heard all there was to hear of the Greengrass family from Mr Weasley. Harry and the remaining brothers — Ron, Bill and Charlie — passed the morning in conversation interspersed with a few hands of cards.

Eventually, after what seemed a torturous wait, Percy and Mr Weasley returned.

“We went through the village on the return journey and who should we run into but old Ms McGonagall? And there could be no excuse but to stop with her for a while. How enjoyable a visit it was, she had just that moment baked an apple pie — indeed with the very apples we had sent her down from our orchard Mrs Weasley…”

Mr Weasley, if allowed, could ramble for hours but nobody was much interested in the reason for the delay. The only concern was to hear the news of the Miss Greengrasses.

Mrs Weasley expressed her wish to hear of the family and Mr Weasley obliged.

“Oh, but there were three young ladies present at the house. The two Miss Greengrasses, both very handsome girls I dare say, and so charming. Their companion was just as handsome I’m sure, but lacked the grace of the young Miss Greengrasses.”

“She was perfectly polite, papa.” Percy came staunchly to the third girl’s defence, “Simply because she did not simper and snivel like a show pony does not mean she lacked grace nor manners.”

“No, to be sure.”

“Well?” Mrs Weasley demanded, “What of her?”

“She is a Miss Parkinson,” Mr Weasley replied. “She has been under the care of the Greengrasses some eight years now since her mother passed.”

“A young woman of little consequence, no doubt,” Mrs Weasley said. “The Greengrasses will not provide for her as they do their own daughters and her father must not be a man of fortune to have sent her away. No, I declare she is of little importance.”

Mr Weasley having discovered what he could, Mrs Weasley set aside her needlework and entreated Ginny and Hermione to join her in paying calls that afternoon. She was obliged, both girls being happy to escape the house and meet friends, and the three women set forth.

 

It seemed that the whole town had endeavoured to make the acquaintance of the Greengrass family, and the Macmillans were no different. The three ladies were certain to be attending the ball, Mrs Weasley had assured her family, so they must all be sure to look their best and present themselves prettily.

They were quite the crowd and three carriages had to be called to take them all to Grenlor House. Their hosts greeted them upon their arrival, including the son Ernest, who cast an especially meaningful glance Hermione’s way. Hermione didn’t manage to suppress her grimace entirely.

The dancing was already underway and Fred and George quickly found partners. After lingering at Harry’s elbow for a few extra moments, Ginny followed suit.

It was Hermione who spotted Neville and, to avoid Ernest Macmillan’s advances as much as her desire to meet with him again, led Harry and Ron across the room to greet him.

“I suppose you have heard about our new neighbours,” Hermione said to Neville after pleasantries had been made.

“Yes,” he replied. “My grandmother is an old acquaintance of Mrs Greengrass. I met the family and the young ladies earlier this week.”

“And what of this Miss Parkinson?” Ron asked.

“Miss Parkinson is even more well placed than the Miss Greengrasses.” Neville confessed, “She is set to inherit 10,000 pounds and her father owns half of Warwickshire. There is even talk she is the sole heiress of Beechwood Park although more likely she has a male cousin who will inherit the estate and its holdings.”

“Ten thousand pounds?” Ron echoed, “Wait until my mother hears of this. There will be no avoiding her.”

“Here they are now,” Neville said, and the four of them turned to observe the newcomers. “The elder Miss Greengrass is on the right, Miss Daphne Greengrass, the younger, Miss Astoria, is not yet out. Then Miss Parkinson is on the left, I believe she is the same age as Miss Greengrass.”

The gossip was true; both of the girls were indeed very handsome. However, Harry could see the source of Mr Weasley’s adverse opinions of Miss Parkinson — she had none of the gentle grace of Miss Greengrass and had a very proud demeanour.

Mr and Mrs Macmillan greeted Mr and Mrs Greengrass, along with the two young girls, and the dancing resumed.

Mrs Weasley presently wrestled her way through the crowd towards where the four of them stood. “Ron, you must come and be introduced to the young ladies. You too, Harry dear. Oh, it is a shame the younger Miss Greengrass is not yet out.” She lamented.

Ron threw a pleading look back at Hermione as the two boys were dragged away but she could do nothing more than offer a shrug and a sympathetic smile before accepting Neville’s offer of a dance.

Mrs Weasley located Bill, Charlie and Mr Weasley on their journey to where the Greengrasses stood and the five of them were presented.

“Mr Greengrass, Mrs Greengrass, may I present my wife, Mrs Weasley; my eldest two and my youngest sons, Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley; and Mr Potter.”

Bows and curtsies were exchanged.

“My wife Mrs Greengrass, my eldest daughter, Miss Greengrass, and my ward, Miss Parkinson.” Mr Greengrass returned, motioning the young women.

“I have two more boys but they are already dancing.” Mrs Weasley confessed. Neither Ginny nor Hermione seemed to warrant mentioning.

“Miss Greengrass, may I claim your hand for the next dance of the evening?” Bill asked, turning to Daphne.

“You may,” she replied with a curtsy.

Augusta Longbottom, who had greeted them with a stiff curtsy, immediately engaged Mr and Mrs Greengrass in conversation and the three remaining young men were faced with the cool gaze of Miss Parkinson.

She met Harry’s eyes, her face blank. “Excuse me,” she said, with a slight curtsy, and turned away.

 

“I do not think her money nor her looks nearly enough to make up for her manners,” Harry confessed of Miss Parkinson to Neville later that evening.

“They are not, in all honesty, bad manners,” Neville replied. “But there is definitely something wanting in them. She has nothing of grace or of charm as Miss Greengrass does which makes her company so enjoyable. I suppose with 10,000 pounds and half of Warwickshire she needn’t always concern herself with a pretty countenance.” He continued.

“Perhaps she simply thinks the likes of our company below her,” Harry replied.

It was at this moment that Harry spotted the young woman in question on the other side of the floral display that Harry and Neville had situated themselves besides, and he motioned to Neville that they should cease their conversation.

“Will not you dance, Pansy?” Daphne entreated her friend; “You look so sober over here all alone.”

“Thank you, but no,” Pansy replied. “I care little to dance in such company and you are dancing with the only handsome man in the room.”

“Mr Weasley is the most handsome, I’ll admit to that, but there are other good-looking men that may please you. Mr Potter, for example, might he not tempt you to join the dancing?”

Harry and Neville exchanged a look.

“Handsome? Mr Potter. I daresay not handsome enough to tempt me. We seem to have opposing opinions of what constitutes good company, Daphne.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up at this, he was not so vain to think himself the most handsome man but he was aware that most found his dark hair and charming smile appealing.

“Count your blessings, Harry,” said Neville from beside him. “If she liked you, you would have to dance with her.”

Harry laughed, “I’m sure not even 15,000 pounds could tempt me to dance with Miss Parkinson.” He confessed.

 

“Miss Greengrass is everything a young woman ought to be,” Bill confessed later, “good-humoured, charming, engaging — and with such pretty manners! I confess I did not expect the compliment of a second dance I would have thought her dance card to be quite full up.”

“She would have to be a fool to have denied you, Bill,” Hermione replied. “Which would have cast doubt on all such good qualities you attribute to her. As it is, I declare she must be perfectly sensible to realise how agreeable you are.”

“If only Miss Parkinson were so pleasant.” Ron chimed in, “She did not dance once the entire evening, although many asked her.”

“Miss Parkinson is sadly lacking in the happy manners which make Miss Greengrass so pleasing to our eyes,” Harry replied, although he did not confess what he and Neville had overheard.

“Oh, it is a shame the younger Miss Greengrass is not out and Miss Parkinson is so arrogant. To think I could have had three sons settled so advantageously if it weren’t so.” Mrs Weasley bemoaned, for she had now heard of Miss Parkinson’s fortune.

“I should think marrying one son off at a time would be perfectly satisfactory, even to you mama,” Ginny replied, grinning.

“When you have seven natural children like me, my dear, if you can think of anything other than their future happiness I shall be surprised.”

Harry had to laugh at the face Ginny pulled at this declaration.

 

Later that week the call paid on Mr Greengrass by Mr Weasley and Percy was repaid in turn by Mrs Greengrass, her two daughters, and Miss Parkinson. All of who sat with Mrs Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione for a quarter hour. Bill, thankfully, was home and able to exchange brief glances with Daphne as the ladies were shown to the parlour.

“Miss Parkinson, I confess, barely said a word!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed once they had left.

“Try as we might we could not get her to open up,” Hermione added.

“Miss Greengrass, however, is such a genial girl.” Mrs Weasley continued, “I do believe you have chosen well, William.”

Bill went red and muttered something unintelligible.

 

Two days thereafter, the men were contracted to dine with Mr Dumbledore, an elderly scholar well known to the family.

“But Mrs Weasley, we shall have to invite the young ladies from Kingsdown to dine with us,” Hermione said.

“Oh but my dear, William will not be here!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed.

“I’m sure Miss Greengrass will wish for a further acquaintance with his family if truly she has her sights on him.”

“Why I believe you are quite right, my dear, do you wish to convey the invitation yourself?”

Hermione confessed that she did and retired the drawing room to compose her invitation. Charlie excused himself and followed her.

A reply was received confirming that Miss Daphne Greengrass and Miss Parkinson would be delighted to dine at the Burrow, but that Miss Astoria Greengrass could not dine outside of her mother’s accompaniment.

“Delighted.” Ginny laughed as she read the response, “Yes, I’m sure Miss Parkinson is most enamoured with our company.”

“Oh come now, Ginny.” Hermione scolded, but there was a small smile on her face.

The men lingered over their departure, no doubt Bill wishing to see Miss Greengrass in passing, but eventually had to leave or risk being late for their engagement. The ladies arrived late, a fact which had Mrs Weasley most put out until the explanation was heard. When they finally arrived, it was in Miss McGonagall’s carriage.

“I really cannot apologise enough for the delay!” Daphne said as soon as they were admitted to the parlour. She gave a hasty curtsy before continuing, “Our carriage went into a rut on the journey here and one of the wheels was broken. We were lucky enough to be near the town and Ms McGonagall was good enough to lend us the use of her carriage to complete our journey.”

“I hope you and Miss Parkinson are uninjured?” Hermione asked sounding truly concerned.

“I thank you, we are quite well. However, with no way home I’m afraid.”

“But of course you must take our carriage home, Edgar will not mind the journey at all,” Mrs Weasley replied. “He has conveyed the men to their supper so you will be detained here until their return, I’m afraid.” She added with a frown.

“Thank you, we are much obliged to you, Mrs Weasley. And indeed, I’m sure we do not mind the wait.” She blushed with this confession, “Do we Pansy?” She turned to her friend.

“Not at all.” Miss Parkinson acquiesced with a polite smile.

 

The women were seated in the parlour when the men returned fully engaged in pleasant conversation.

“Mrs Weasley, but who do you think was at our soiree tonight?” Mr Weasley asked as he entered the room, the young men in tow. “None other than Aberforth, what a pleasure it was to see him again — ah, the young ladies are still here!” He noticed Daphne and Pansy with a bow.

“The ladies’ carriage took a jolt on their journey here,” Mrs Weasley explained. “I will have Edgar ensure they make it home safely. The horses, I’m sure, will need a rest, however,” she said, casting her eyes towards Bill who was already moving to join Miss Greengrass on the chaise.

Fred and George entreated Ginny and Hermione to form a game of whist with them and Charlie moved to watch its progress. Casting an almost panicked glance at Miss Parkinson, Ron joined his father and Percy to smoke a pipe in Mr Weasley’s study.

Mrs Weasley settled herself in an armchair in the corner, taking up her embroidery hoop, leaving Harry, for the sake of civility, to entertain Miss Parkinson.

“How are you finding Hertfordshire, Miss Parkinson?” He asked as he joined her on the loveseat, “I assume you find it rather lacking in society.”

“Not at all,” Miss Parkinson replied, her spine straightening. “I am here with my good friends. I’m sure whom ever they see fit to meet with can be nothing but pleasant company.”

“Are you often with your father? I’m sure there is plenty of fine company to be had in Warwickshire.”

“I see my father every year,” Miss Parkinson replied simply. “And what of your parents Mr Potter? How is it you have come to spend so much time with the Weasleys?”

“My parents passed away when I was a child, I have nothing but happy memories of them.”

“Mr and Mrs Weasley are your legal guardians?” She asked.

“No, I was raised by my aunt and uncle in Surrey,” Harry replied. “I came to the Weasleys when I was seventeen. They have always treated me as a son.”

“But I’m sure they have more than they can keep track of,” Pansy replied tartly, casting her eye across the occupants of the parlour.

“You have no siblings?” However, it was not really a question.

“No,” she replied. “My mother died when I was young and my father never remarried.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, and he was.

It was a good half an hour before the horses were deemed rested enough to convey the two young women back to Kingsdown, and, for the most part, it was a half hour pleasantly spent. Although, Harry could not honestly say he found Miss Parkinson’s manner much more tolerable than he had first perceived it to be.

 

“Hermione, have not you heard?” Ginny asked as she whirled into the breakfast-parlour in a flurry of skirts.

“Heard what?” Hermione asked, setting down her teacup.

This made everybody pause to hear the news, which was given readily.

“The militia are coming! They are to spend the whole winter here. Can you believe it, mama?”

“Honestly Ginny, that is hardly noteworthy news,” Hermione replied, but she could not completely conceal her interest in the news from those who knew her so well.

“We must walk into Kingsbury once they are arrived!” Ginny could not be entreated upon to be anything other than animated by such news.

 

True to Ginny’s word the militia arrived the next week, bringing with them a great flurry of excitement amongst all the young women of Kingsbury.

“Miss Vane claims to have met many of the men when she was in Exeter,” Ginny conveyed when Luna Lovegood and Lavender Brown paid her and Hermione a call. “She credits them as extremely sociable men, and all very handsome.”

“Well, if Romilda says so…” Lavender commented in a tone that had Hermione politely coughing into her handkerchief to mask her laughter.

“The Greengrasses are throwing a ball at Kingsdown, are not they?” Luna piped up.

“Yes,” Hermione replied. “Next week.”

“We must suggest to Miss Greengrass that they invite the militia,” Ginny exclaimed.

“Oh do,” Lavender agreed. “I understand that you see Miss Greengrass often?”

“And by extension the charming Miss Parkinson,” Hermione griped.

“I have heard her to be very discourteous,” Lavender confessed.

“Miss Parkinson,” Ginny said decidedly, “would never be anything as vulgar as discourteous. She is perfectly well mannered, she simply lacks any ability to recommend herself to the opinion of others. She has none of the gentility of her good friends.”

“Perhaps she is shy,” Luna suggested, but her reproach fell on deaf ears, as Ginny was quite content thoroughly to dislike Miss Parkinson.

 

Accompanied by Charlie and the twins, the two girls fulfilled their plan of walking to Kingsbury the next day. Much to Ginny’s delight they met with Neville almost immediately conversing with two men in uniform.

“May I introduce Mr Thomas and Mr Finnigan?” Neville introduced his companions. “Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley.”

Civilities were exchanged before the two groups parted ways.

“Hermione and I have some shopping to do for the Greengrass’ ball,” Ginny said linking her arm through Hermione’s. “We’ll let you gentlemen be on your way.”

“What do you think of that?” She said to Hermione as soon as they were out of earshot of the boys, “Perhaps Miss Vane was not so mistaken in her assessment of the men.”

“I assume you are referring to Mr Thomas?” Hermione replied with a knowing smile.

Ginny smile magnanimously, “I do not pretend to be so decisive that my mind may not yet be swayed.”

“By any particular individual or is it an open-ended prospect?”

Ginny laughed and the two girls entered the haberdashers to look at ribbons.

Upon concluding their business the two girls were delighted to meet with Mr Thomas in the town square. He bowed correctly to them and inquired into their heading, on finding they were returning to the Burrow he offered to accompany them, as he had business in that direction, and was wholeheartedly accepted.

It was soon after that the three of them met with Mrs Greengrass, Miss Greengrass, Miss Greengrass and Miss Parkinson, to whom they introduced Mr Thomas. The young Miss Greengrass stepped shyly into her mother’s protective circle and Miss Parkinson’s eyes narrowed at the man as he performed a gentlemanly bow and she would not look directly at him.

“Mrs Greengrass you must invite Mr Thomas to your ball!” Ginny cried, “He is a credit to his profession.”

“I do not wish to impose,” Mr Thomas protested but Mrs Greengrass smiled.

“It is no imposition,” she assured. “We should be but glad to have you there.”

Miss Parkinson frowned at this but said nothing.

 

Despite her interest in Mr Thomas, Ginny skipped ahead as the three continued towards the Burrow, perhaps in raptures at the thought of the upcoming ball, leaving Hermione in Mr Thomas’ company.

“Miss Parkinson does not seem enamoured with your company,” Hermione observed.

“I do not believe she has a high opinion of me,” he replied.

“I hope it will not stop you from attending the ball.”

“I have done nothing to wrong Miss Parkinson,” he said. “If she does not wish to see me then she must be the one to go.”

Hermione wondered what had passed between Miss Parkinson and Mr Thomas to make for such unpleasant feelings between them but dared not pry into the matter. Presently the three reached the spot at which their paths parted and Mr Thomas bid them adieu.

 

Again, three carriages were employed to transfer the party to the ball at Kingsdown. Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill and Percy took the first; the twins and Ron the second; leaving Charlie, Harry, Ginny and Hermione to the third.

“I do wonder that the militia will have been invited,” Ginny said, practically bouncing up and down in her seat with anticipation. “I’m sure Mr Thomas is an accomplished dancer.” She cast a sly glance in Harry’s direction at this but he seemed not to notice.

“Is there any young man whose name you are hoping to jot on your dance card, Hermione?” He asked her, grinning.

“As long as my dance card is free of the name ‘Macmillan’ I shall be quite satisfied.” Hermione joked in reply with a half glance at Charlie.

Mr and Mrs Greengrass greeted their guests as they entered the house and Ginny immediately took Hermione’s arm and bid her to search for Mr Thomas with her. The two girls wound through the crowd, eventually bumping into Mr Finnigan.

“Miss Granger, Miss Weasley,” he greeted them with a proper bow. “Are you looking for Thomas?” He asked Hermione.

“Why, yes,” Hermione answered glancing from him to Ginny who was not paying attention to the conversation and instead was scanning the dancing couples.

“He requested me to tell you that he was called away on urgent business, but that that business may not have been quite so urgent if it were not for the presence of a certain young lady.”

“I see,” Hermione replied. “Excuse me.” She hurried a hasty curtsy and left Mr Finnigan to invite Ginny to dance.

Observing the dancers Hermione saw that Bill had already engaged Daphne’s hand in the first dance of the evening, Ron and Lavender Brown as well as Fred with Miss Angelina Johnson were amongst the couples.

Charlie approached Hermione as she watched the couples and bowed properly. “Miss Granger,” he said. “Might I claim your hand for this set?”

She laughed and curtsied in response, “You may, Mr Weasley,” she replied, allowing him to take her hand and lead her to join the couples.

Daphne danced twice with Bill again, it was clear to all in the room that an announcement would be imminent, and clearer to none more than Mrs Weasley.

“Yes we quite expect a happy announcement by the end of the month,” she bragged as she lounged on a chaise, glass of wine in hand, surrounded by friends. “To have a son so happily and advantageously situated, there is nothing like it.”

Hermione cringed as she overhead Mrs Weasley’s vulgar conversation, to talk of such things in such open company, there was no excuse to be had. It would have mortified Bill to hear his mother talk in such a manner.

“And what of Miss Weasley?” One of Mrs Weasley’s companions asked.

“Harry’s is not a countenance to be rushed,” Mrs Weasley replied confidingly. “But is awful fond of Ginevra, is not he?”

 

For Hermione, their return to the Burrow could not come about soon enough. Mrs Weasley’s tasteless bragging had left her uncomfortable for the rest of the evening and she was thankful when the carriages were called and they all clambered into them.

“I think perhaps that Harry takes the prize for the most unpleasant partner of the evening,” Ginny said with a laugh. “He danced with Miss Parkinson, Hermione, did you notice? Whatever possessed you to ask her, Harry?”

“She had not been asked once all evening, I thought it incredibly cruel to leave her so snubbed.”

“She danced not once at Grenlor it is of no wonder she was not asked again tonight.”

“I thought it the proper thing to do,” was the only reply Harry gave.

The Weasleys all made to turn in as soon as the party arrived home but Hermione drew Harry aside, into the drawing room where they might not be disturbed.

“I have a mind to return home for the winter,” she said as soon as the door closed behind them. “My parents will not order me home but I can tell that they wish it.”

“How long will you go for?”

“Perhaps until the New Year,” she replied. “Perhaps longer; I do not think Mrs Weasley in the mind to think of me as she does her own children.”

“I cannot persuade you to stay?” Harry asked.

“No, I think my mind is quite set. You ought to consider going away for a time, Harry. You know Mrs Weasley thinks of your marrying Ginny.”

“Ginny would not have it,” Harry replied. “Besides Mrs Weasley has no manner to force the match. It is wishful thinking.”

Hermione said nothing but privately thought Ginny would be much pleased with such a proposal.

“When will you go?” Harry asked.

“A week or so from now,” Hermione replied. “I shall write to my parents first.”

 

True to her word at breakfast the next morning Hermione announced that her parents had requested her return home and that she would be leaving before the week was out. Mrs Weasley expressed her regret at this plan but with so many children under one roof, she could not truly bring herself to regret it. It was Ginny, and surprisingly Charlie, who took the news with the most disappointment.

“But Miss Greengrass is most fond of you, Hermione,” Ginny cried, in an attempt to convince her friend to stay. “She will not visit if you are gone and then how will she see Bill?”

“I’m sure if Miss Greengrass is truly interested in Bill she will visit regardless of my presence in the house.” Hermione assured her, “My parents are most eager to have me home, there is nothing to be done about it.”

“You are a most dutiful daughter, Hermione,” Mrs Weasley said. “I’m sure one would expect nothing less of any well-raised child.”

Later that day Hermione requested Harry walk with her into Kingsbury to post her letter to her parents.

“I would be glad of the walk,” she said. “And, truthfully, I do not wish to be discovered as not entirely forthright. You know there are reasons for my departure that propriety forbids me from giving.”

Harry did know; Mrs Weasley’s general crude behaviour had more weight on Hermione’s reputation than his own as a young, independently wealthy bachelor.

When they reached Kingsbury, they found it crawling with men from the regiment. Harry, spotting some men with whom he was well acquainted, parted with Hermione to greet them. To Hermione’s own delight Mr Thomas approached her and bowed with an easy smile gracing his face.

“Miss Granger, I hope I find you well today,” he said. “I am glad of the opportunity to apologise in person for not dancing with you at Kingsdown.”

“I’m sure no such apology is necessary,” Hermione replied. “I understand you had business out of town.”

“Yes,” he replied. “Although a dance with you would have brought me greater happiness. What brings you into the village?”

“I have a letter to send to my parents, I am returning home to Hampstead at the end of the week.”

“That is sorry news, how long will you be away?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” she replied. “Perhaps until the New Year.”

“I feel, given my behaviour, I owe an explanation for my non-attendance at the Kingsdown ball.”

“Mr Thomas, I have no wish to pry,” Hermione said, although she was curious as to what was between himself and Miss Parkinson.

“Please, I wish to explain myself, and there is no one I trust more with the story.”

Hermione flushed at this and acquiesced to hearing the tale.

“I have met with Miss Parkinson before, in Warwickshire,” Mr Thomas explained. “I am acquainted with many of her friends there, although they do not consider me of the same social standing. My younger sister, she was a little younger than Miss Weasley at the time, became well acquainted with one of Miss Parkinson’s particular friends. A boy Miss Parkinson had known since birth, Mr Nott. He and my sister were in love, you see — he had spoken of making an offer to my sister many times. We all thought the match was forthcoming, they were plainly enamoured with each other. But Miss Parkinson heard of Nott’s plans and put an end to the engagement before it had even begun. She thought my sister too lowly for her friend of such high birth and good fortune. His proposal never came, and he left my poor sister heartbroken; she has never been the same since.”

“But that is awful!” Hermione exclaimed, “How could Miss Parkinson treat a young girl so cruelly? And why ever did this gentleman not stand up to her?”

“Nott was of a gentle demeanour, I cannot blame him for what happened as it was one of the things my sister loved about him.”

“Did Miss Parkinson own to her role in the affair?” Hermione asked, still shocked at the tale.

“I overheard her bragging about it at a public assembly,” Mr Thomas replied. “If she were a man, I should have challenged her, but as she is a lady, I can do nothing but warn others of her nature.”

“I thank you for your warning and am most sympathetic to you and your sister’s plight,” Hermione said, and she meant it.

After they parted ways Hermione posted her letter and, on the walk home, relayed Mr Thomas’ story to Harry.

“To think Miss Parkinson capable of something so cruel,” Hermione said. “I wish I could say I do not think her so unpleasant but she is so proud and reticent it seems quite in her character. And I feel so for poor Miss Thomas, to have thought your future so certain and then for it to be taken from her in such a way.”

“I do not have your certainty that Miss Parkinson could behave so,” Harry replied frowning. “To think a gentleman in love so easily swayed I cannot fathom, and it does not explain Mr Thomas’ reluctance to see Miss Parkinson. If she were truly the one at fault then why should he avoid her?”

“He did say as much himself on the matter but it makes sense that seeing her might make him uncomfortable. Especially as he and his sister are close and Miss Parkinson seems to have been the architect of her despair.”

“I do not doubt something unsavoury has passed between them, but I cannot understand Miss Parkinson’s apparent dislike of Mr Thomas if this is the story.”

“She thinks herself his superior socially, she has made that much clear to us all.”

The pair concluded the conversation as they reached the Burrow and returned to the bustle and enjoyment of daily life.

 

Hermione’s letter was received and returned with much happiness and, true to her word, she quit the Burrow at the end of the week.

The day after Hermione’s departure Mrs Weasley and Ginny paid a call on Mrs Greengrass and the young ladies. Ginny reported that they sat with the young women for a quarter hour and Daphne had indeed lamented Hermione’s departure severely.

“I hope Miss Granger will not be away for too long,” said she. “I do declare her a most charming friend.”

Miss Parkinson offered her murmured agreement to this statement.

The same day Neville called on Charlie and the two men sat together, shut up in Mr Weasley’s study, for near an hour.

Mrs Greengrass and the two young ladies from Kingsdown returned the call on Mrs Weasley and Ginny two days later. They were invited to dine with the family the following day and accepted with due decorum.

Harry missed Hermione and found, to his surprise, that Miss Parkinson made a pleasant companion for dinner conversation. She was witty, once she let her guard down a little, and a refreshing change from the daily conversation of Ron and Ginny.

Hermione wrote: a long letter addressed to Ginny that she must have known would be passed around the breakfast table, and a shorter letter for Harry, which he opened in private with a fond smile.

Mrs Weasley and Ginny visited Kingsdown again on their next morning of paying calls only to find the ladies away paying their own calls.

“I could have sworn,” said Mrs Weasley, “that the Greengrasses were always to be At Home on Friday mornings. But alas, I must have gotten my days mixed up. I no longer have Mrs Greengrass’ calling card with her calling times noted down, I am sorry to confess.”

They returned two days later only to find the ladies had walked into Kingsbury for some shopping.

“Even Miss Astoria had accompanied them,” Mrs Weasley informed everybody at dinner. “I left a calling card, but we must invite them to dinner again.”

“Mama,” Bill protested. “But they dined with us last! We must wait for them to repay invitation.”

“Nonsense Bill, they are good enough friends by now that they will not take offence.”

The invitation was dispatched but regretfully declined. The Greengrasses were to be dining with the Patils on the offered day but would be honoured to receive the family for dinner in due course.

No such invitation prevailed. Twice more Mrs Weasley and Ginny called only to find the ladies mysteriously absent. To all but Mrs Weasley, it was plain what was happening.

Bill’s outward demeanour was not obviously affected but Harry could see that Daphne’s rebuttal hurt him. Harry himself, knew who must truly be behind the separation and found that he did not find Mr Thomas’ account of his sister’s sufferings so difficult to believe any longer. Eventually, Bill himself called in at Kingsdown only to be turned away by the butler who seemed to have run out of excuses that the ladies might not be seen. He returned to the Burrow and retired straight to his room where he remained until dinnertime, at which he did not speak.

The following week passed with nothing more from the inhabitants at Kingsdown and at the same time, the news that Miss Greengrass would not meet with Mr Weasley nor his mother or sister spread about the town.

“How are you all?” Lavender asked Ginny as their mothers discussed various methods for baking apples.

“We are all well, I thank you,” Ginny replied, knowing what Lavender meant. “Missing Hermione of course, she will hopefully be back before too long.”

“I’m sure Miss Greengrass misses her company too,” Lavender said.

“I do not pretend to concern myself with Miss Greengrass’ opinions,” Ginny said shortly. “I’m sure she is of no concern to us and were Hermione here she would agree with me.”

“I saw Miss Greengrass on Tuesday,” Lavender said. “She did not look at all well.”

Ginny did not offer a response to this.

 

Life at the Burrow continued much as it had before the Greengrasses arrived at Kingsbury and the loss of the young ladies’ company was not felt too strongly by most in the house. Hermione, however, was more widely missed, and they often passed a letter from her around the breakfast table with much joy. The Tuesday after Mrs and Miss Brown’s visit another letter from Hampstead was delivered. Whereas Hermione generally addressed such letters to Harry or Ginny, she had addressed this particular letter to Mr and Mrs Weasley and it went as follows.

_Dear Sir and Madam,_

_I have been happily reinstated with my parents for almost three weeks now, and although I miss you all at the Kingsdown, I do not have cause to find the society in Hampstead to be lacking._

_I have been made acquainted with a young gentleman of the name of Mr McLaggen, whose parents own a large milling company in the Midlands. Mr McLaggen has made me an offer of marriage, which my father advises me to accept._

_Mr McLaggen is a perfectly amiable gentleman but I do find that a longer acquaintance cannot be disagreeable before embarking upon such a commitment as marriage. This is not my father’s opinion, whilst he would never decide himself I find his beliefs sway me._

_I beg of you to offer me your advice as I hold you both in the same regard as my own parents and would welcome any guidance you see fit to bestow upon me._

_With my kindest regards to you and your family, wishing you all happiness._

_Your assured and most loving friend,_

_Hermione Granger._

The opening of this letter Mrs Weasley read aloud and when she fell silent, the letter was snatched from her by Ginny, who finished the reading with gusto.

At hearing the contents of the letter Charlie let out a loud exclamation, stood and exited the breakfast room without a backward glance. Mrs Weasley paid him mind for only a fraction of a moment before returning to the matter at hand.

“Imagine that!” She said, “Hermione, married!”

“It hardly sounds like what she wants, mama,” Bill replied. “She begs your advice.”

“Her father must know what is best for her,” Mrs Weasley said. “She is a pretty young thing, and so agreeable when she wants to be it is unsurprising really, that she has caught a young man’s eye.”

“Now, Mrs Weasley,” Mr Weasley said holding his hand out for the letter which Ginny passed to him. “Hermione has written to ask for our advice on the matter, and there can only be one way about it. We must encourage her to make what she thinks is the right choice.”

“We must encourage her to do as her father bids her!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed.

“It will be Hermione, not her father, who will have to live with the decision made,” Mr Weasley replied. “We must support nothing that would not bring her happiness.”

“Hermione will find happiness in a good husband and a sure future.” Mrs Weasley insisted, but upon this Mr Weasley could not be swayed. He retired after Charlie to write a prompt reply to Hermione and left an abundance of gossip in his wake.

Percy was of the same opinion of his mother that Hermione should accept a good offer when it came her way lest she not receive another. Bill had nothing to say on the subject and the twins could not be held from theorising about Mr McLaggen’s person for long enough to give an opinion on the match itself. Ginny had not thought Hermione the type to acquiesce so easily to others’ demands, and Harry could think only of Charlie.

That afternoon Charlie announced that he would hand deliver Mr Weasley’s response to Hermione. “It will be much more expedient if I were to take the letter in person,” he explained. “I feel speed is of the essence in such a matter and to post it will only delay my father’s advice from reaching her.” He set off on horseback that he might reach Mulberry Grange by the following afternoon.

 

Inspired by Charlie’s action Harry took it upon himself to see if there was anything to be done about the rift between Miss Greengrass and Bill, and, almost certain that the separation was due entirely to Miss Parkinson’s interference than any lack of feeling on Miss Greengrass’ part, he set forth to Kingsdown.

The butler opened the door to admit Harry and he presented his calling card. “I would appreciate if I could meet with Miss Parkinson,” Harry said. “It is a matter of great importance.”

“I will see if Miss Parkinson is available, sir,” the butler replied, leaving Harry in the entry hall. He returned not five minutes later accompanied by Miss Parkinson.

“Mr Potter,” she greeted him with a civil curtsy.

“Miss Parkinson,” he replied with an accompanying bow.

“Might we step into the morning room,” she suggested, gesturing towards a door to her right. “You are lucky to have caught me at home,” she added, “Mrs Weasley is aware of our calling times is not she?”

“I’m sure she is. I’m afraid I am here on business that could not wait.”

Miss Parkinson took a seat and motioned to the loveseat opposite. “Please, sit.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied shortly remaining upright, “I will not take too much of your time.”

She frowned, but he continued.

“I am here regarding the situation between my good friend Mr Weasley and Miss Greengrass. I’m afraid knowing what I do about your past I cannot help but speak out.”

“Mr Potter, I –”

“I think we can both agree that the affection between our good friends was plain to all. Therefore, we are all at the Burrow concerned by Miss Greengrass’ apparent distaste for Bill. I believe you to have had a hand in the matter.”

“And pray tell, Mr Potter, what is it you know of my past that makes you believe so?”

“You know I speak of the matter regarding Mr Thomas and his dear sister.”

“His sister?” Miss Parkinson replied looking shocked.

“Mr Thomas told us of the attachment between his younger sister and your childhood friend, Mr Nott, that you so cruelly ended as you saw it so beneath his standing. I have no doubt that that is your concern regarding Mr Weasley.”

“My concern,” Miss Parkinson’s voice was icy, “is for my good friend and her future happiness. It is for the lack of propriety shown by Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley’s siblings, and, on occasion, his father. I will not have my dear Daphne disrespected in such a manner as she has thus been by Mr Weasley’s family.”

Harry, who knew Mrs Weasley’s indecency to be vast, struggled with a response for this. “So you will condemn her to lose a great love as it is one that does not align with your sense of suitability.”

“I hardly deem Miss Greengrass and Mr Weasley’s attachment a great love.” Was the only response Miss Parkinson deigned to give.

“And Miss Thomas and Mr Nott?” Harry asked, “Was their love not great enough for you to judge it worthy?”

“I know not of what love you speak.” Miss Parkinson replied, “I was not aware Mr Nott and Miss Thomas were acquainted beyond perhaps a meeting at a public ball. If there was any love between the two I certainly had no hand in its failing.”

“You deny the involvement that you are credited with? But you do not deny your hand in the separation of Miss Greengrass and Mr Weasley. Their attachment, in your eyes it not worthy of the obstacles it faces?”

“I have endured your ridicule well enough, Mr Potter. I must now ask you to leave.”

“I thank you for your time,” Harry said with a sharp bow. “I will see myself out.”

Miss Parkinson did not reply.

 

Having made no headway in the matter between Miss Greengrass and Bill, Harry returned to the Burrow out of sorts. Miss Parkinson’s claims she knew of no connection between Miss Thomas and her friend confused him, and he remembered how he had not so immediately believed Mr Thomas’ story as Hermione had. Atop this confusion was Harry’s concern for Hermione, and for Charlie; he worried that Charlie might not reach Hampstead in time to dissuade Hermione from accepting Mr McLaggen’s proposal. Additionally, he was not so certain in Hermione’s returned regard for Charlie as to feel entirely at ease about the situation. Whilst he flattered himself that he knew Hermione best out of all those at the Burrow, or even in Kingsbury, she kept matters of the heart very close to her person and rarely revealed what she felt.

With no word from Charlie or Hermione over the following days there was nothing to ease Harry’s anxiety, and he went through the week in something of an agonised daze often having to be addressed two or three times before he replied. Finally, a letter did arrive for Harry; but it was not from Hermione, instead, it was from Miss Parkinson.

 _Dear Sir,_ it read.

_I write to you now as I feel I must address the accusations laid before me upon your visit to Kingsdown this Tuesday. I do not write with the illusion that your opinion of me may be swayed, only to set straight the stories told about me by Mr Thomas, and hoping you may understand my apprehensions regarding Mr Weasley’s design on Miss Greengrass._

_I firstly wish to address the accusations you have made against me regarding Miss Thomas’ happiness. I have indeed met with Mr Thomas before in Warwickshire where I spend every winter with my father. The winter in question we had invited Mr and Mrs Greengrass, along with their daughters, to spend Christmas with us at Beechwood Park. Mr Thomas at the time lived in the village with his father and younger sister, who was sixteen years old. I had been acquainted with Mr Thomas and his sister for many years as our paths had often crossed, at a public ball they were introduced to Mr and Mrs Greengrass and Miss Daphne Greengrass; as you are aware the youngest Miss Greengrass is not yet out. I believe it was at this same ball that Miss Thomas and Mr Nott were introduced, and whilst I am certain that they danced together if the acquaintance went any further I know nothing of it._

_Mr Thomas took a shine to the elder Miss Greengrass, he danced with her multiple times that evening, and we regularly found ourselves in his company over the following weeks. Several times Mr Thomas and his sister dined at Beechwood Park, and it was here they were introduced to Miss Astoria._

_The acquaintance continued several weeks before we realised anything was amiss. Mr Thomas’ affections towards Miss Daphne Greengrass had been plain; therefore, we were all as shocked as we were worried when we awoke one morning to find Miss Astoria missing. She had left us a letter saying she and Mr Thomas had run away to elope together. Mr Greengrass was almost mad with worry and my own father’s concern was nearly equal. They immediately set forth to discover the pair and allay the match. Thankfully, they intercepted them before they could reach London or the news of their departure from Warwick was discovered, but Astoria could not be prevailed upon to return home. Convinced that she was in love with Mr Thomas she stood steadfastly by his side. Her father eventually engaged her to return with them promising that she and Mr Thomas could marry at Beechwood surrounded by their family. Upon their return, the Miss Greengrasses and I retired with Mrs Greengrass, who was ill and had not been told of Miss Greengrass’ disappearance._

_You are, of course, Mr Potter, aware of Miss Greengrass’ vast inheritance. It is therefore unsurprising that Mr Thomas equally knew of her worth. Upon discovering that he would not be entitled to a penny of this money and that Mr Greengrass would not provide them with a living, Mr Thomas left Beechwood without so much as an explanation to Astoria. She was heartbroken, having been convinced of her love for him and equally sure of his for her. She was fourteen at the time._

_Miss Greengrass’ plight considered I’m sure you can understand my concern for any of my good friends’ attachments to those who may seek to use them unkindly. I cannot deny my involvement in the separation of Miss Greengrass and Mr Weasley, but given his family’s attitudes and impropriety, and his own lack of fortune I cannot sit idly by and allow Miss Greengrass to be thus led astray. I do not doubt Mr Weasley’s own good intentions, I cannot as he is so clearly besotted with Miss Greengrass, but I cannot look past the character or standing of his family._

_I need not tell you that the contents of this letter are of the utmost secrecy and trust that you will not relay them further. I hope that this account has given you a greater understanding of my concerns regarding the attachment between Miss Greengrass and Mr Weasley. Whilst I do not consider myself forgiven for the role I have played in its undoing I wish only for your acceptance of my motives, I will end my explanation here and only add, God bless you._

_Pansy Parkinson._

This was a conundrum, Harry thought as he folded Miss Parkinson’s letter. Could he really believe Mr Thomas such a scoundrel? But if he did not, he thought Miss Parkinson not only terribly elitist but a liar. He wished, not for the first time, that Hermione had not left that he might seek her counsel. He felt sure she would know what to make of the matter.

 

Little did Harry know that his wishes were soon to be answered. He spent the next few days in an agony of indecision of what to think of Miss Parkinson and Mr Thomas but was saved his torment by the return of Charlie and Hermione.

“We are… we have an announcement.” Charlie declared glancing at Hermione, who turned pink.

Harry couldn’t stop the grin that broke out across his face.

“Oh, Hermione!” Mrs Weasley greeted the bushy-haired girl with a motherly embrace, “We did not expect you back so soon!”

“Mother,” Charlie said gently as Hermione extricated herself from Mrs Weasley’s arms.

“Hermione and I, we’re engaged,” he said.

“Oh!” Mrs Weasley threw her hands up and pulled the couple into another embrace.

The Burrow erupted into chatter and celebration, regularly one of the children would exclaim that they had not known there to be such an attachment between the pair and they would both blush and confess that they had not been aware of the others’ affections themselves.

Harry could not get Hermione on her own until well after dinner. When he finally did, he hugged her in a brotherly fashion. “I feared when we received your letter it may not work out between the two of you,” he said.

Hermione laughed, “I am surprised that you of all people saw something between us,” she replied. “You are not always so observant.”

“How so?” Harry asked but received no explanation for this accusation.

“As happy as I am for your return, and for your engagement, there is something pressing I need to talk with you about,” Harry confessed, fishing Miss Parkinson’s letter from his pocket, which he handed to Hermione.

He watched in agitated silence as she read, impatient for her opinion on the matter.

“Well?” He said, as soon as she refolded the letter and handed it back to him.

“What?”

“What do you think of it? It makes more sense than Mr Thomas’ explanation does it not?”

“You were so reluctant to believe Miss Parkinson capable of such cruelty as Mr Thomas accused her, if this is indeed the truth then is Mr Thomas not ten times as cruel as we thought Miss Parkinson to be?”

“We know nothing of Mr Thomas’ character,” Harry protested.

“And we know Miss Parkinson so well?” Hermione said, “Harry, she barely speaks to us. She has been nothing but aloof since we met with her first.”

“I do not find her so proud as you do.”

“If this were the truth of what passed between the two then how could Miss Greengrass meet so calmly with Mr Thomas when their paths have crossed in town?” Hermione retorted.

“I do not think the Miss Greengrasses so impassioned as Miss Parkinson is in the defence of her friends. Besides, they must keep the whole affair concealed from their mother if she is not aware.”

“I am sorry, Harry. Considering what has passed between Bill and Miss Greengrass I find Mr Thomas’ story much more credible than Miss Parkinson’s account of the affair.”

 

Despite Hermione’s doubts on the subject Harry could not help but think Miss Parkinson’s tale of affairs more likely than Mr Thomas’. However, Hermione’s warnings ringing in his ears he did not mention the letter to anyone else amongst their acquaintance.

Three days after her return to the Burrow Hermione received a letter from the young ladies at Kingsdown offering their congratulations. They would, of course, have extended these happy regards in person if it were not for Mrs Greengrass’ ill health. However, they expressed they would be most pleased to receive Miss Granger at Kingsdown should she wish to call upon them.

This matter led to an immense argument amongst those at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley vowed no daughter-in-law of hers would call on such people who had cast aside the happiness of her dear son without so much as a second thought. Mr Weasley sighed and reproached his wife and Bill begged his mother not to be so obstinate. Ginny went a full day without even looking Hermione’s way but the following day the two seemed to have made up. Despite all this contention Hermione did indeed set out to call on the young ladies on Wednesday afternoon when they were known to be at home.

“How were they?” Charlie asked when Hermione returned home.

Mrs Weasley remained staunchly in her seat by the fire but Bill turned to hear Hermione’s response.

“They were well,” she said. “I hope, however, that Mrs Greengrass’ ailment is not catching, Miss Greengrass did look a little under the weather. Miss Parkinson tells me she will be leaving us for Warwickshire soon as she always visits her father around this time of year.”

Nothing more was said on the matter and when the subject turned to Hermione and Charlie’s wedding preparations, Mrs Weasley was prevailed upon to join the conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> I have around 5,000 words of this left to write so hopefully it shouldn't take too long to get the second half up.
> 
> check me out on [tumblr](https://graengrs.tumblr.com) if you want to know more about me & support my writing


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks past, and despite Hermione’s return, the inhabitants of the Burrow saw just as little of the Greengrass ladies as they had prior to her coming down from Hampstead. They heard from Neville Longbottom that Miss Parkinson had left for Warwickshire and was not expected to return before the winter was out.

“Miss Greengrass has not been herself lately,” Neville confided in Harry and Charlie one November evening. “Perhaps whilst Miss Parkinson is away there will be an opportunity for her to meet with those who bring her some happiness.”

“I do not doubt the strength of Miss Parkinson’s influence,” Harry replied. “And if I am honest, Miss Greengrass’ debility in the manner does not speak well of her character in my eyes.”

“Would not you allow your friends’ opinions to influence your own?” Charlie asked, “Were they so set against the match?”

“Would you not have Hermione if we were not all so fond of her?” Harry countered.

“I cannot speak for such a situation,” he replied. “Hermione is almost family already and I cannot imagine a world wherein it was not so.”

“I believe you judge too harshly, Harry,” Neville agreed. “Does Miss Greengrass’ seeming regret over the matter not speak to her character also?”

“Perhaps I do,” Harry agreed with a sigh. “I’m afraid I cannot pardon those who hurt my friends, and once lost my good opinion is lost forever.”

Neville laughed, “Should they reconcile I’m sure you will find it in your heart to forgive the error.”

“Of Miss Greengrass, perhaps, but Miss Parkinson cannot be excused.”

It was around this time that Harry received a letter from his godfather, Mr Sirius Black, a man who had been a close friend of his parents and whom Harry loved dearly. Unfortunately, his status as a bachelor meant that he had been unable to raise Harry when his parents died. Now Harry was of an age where he was able to spend his time as he pleased, and this often included excursions with Sirius when they got the chance. The letter told Harry that his godfather was going on a trip north, to Lincoln or perhaps Derby, and invited Harry to accompany him. Thus, assuring Mrs Weasley that he – and perhaps even Sirius – would be back in Hertfordshire well in time for Christmas, Harry accepted the offer.

Sirius, who lived in a smart house in town, arrived to collect Harry a little over a week later. Harry bade the Weasleys farewell and the family saw the pair off in Sirius’ hired post-chaise.

“The horses are freshly changed,” Sirius said after the greetings were over. “We will make good time to Cambridge, which I thought may be our first stop.”

Harry acquiesced to this plan and as soon as the carriage was out of the village they picked up speed.

They stopped for lunch after a little over an hour and to change horses again and were on their way again by one o’clock. The sky was dark by the time they reached Cambridge, Sirius grumbled as he exited the post-chaise rubbing at his behind.

“I am positively convinced that there is no such thing as travelling in comfort,” he grumbled as Harry jumped out of the carriage behind him.

Harry laughed, “You’re still young,” he said. “I’m sure you will bounce back.”

“Not so young anymore,” Sirius replied, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders and leading him into the public house. “I’ve turned one and forty since last you saw me.”

The pair remained in Cambridge for a week, there was much to do in a new city and Sirius had enough acquaintances that they were not lacking for company. They dined out every night after their arrival except for the very first, a fact which Sirius was quick to attribute to his charm and dashing good looks.

On the eve before their quitting Cambridge Sirius broached the subject of their onward journey.

“I do not think,” said he, “that if we have any design of your being at the Burrow well in time for Christmas that we are able to venture as far north as I first thought. Derbyshire is too far, and Lincolnshire almost certainly as well. Perhaps a circuit of those counties closer to our vicinity will be wiser.”

Harry agreed to this change of plans and Sirius devised that they should leave for Northampton the next morning, where they might spend a couple of days before continuing their journey.

The course of their journey was of little concern to Harry; to be away from Kingsbury, although he loved it dearly, was enjoyment enough as was the company of his godfather, who was the closest to a father to him that Harry had ever known. It was for these reasons that Harry did not vex himself with their route; it was of little consequence. That was, until Sirius announced that upon quitting Northampton they should head to Warwickshire.

Harry protested feebly the entire ride from Cambridge to Northampton, for which they left immediately after breakfast and arrived only in time for dinner that evening. Reluctant to admit his reason for wanting to avoid that area of the country he insisted that they had not the time to go to Warwickshire, which was out of their way and that to proceed straight to Oxford would be much more prudent.

Sirius would not hear it. “Nonsense, Harry,” he said. “We have plenty of time to stop a couple of days in Warwickshire. I have friends there, you know, friends of your parents. Wouldn’t you like to meet them?”

“Friends of my parents?” Harry asked, not knowing to whom Sirius was referring.

“Yes, Mr Lupin. Surely I have made mention of him to you before? He lives in Stratham with his dear old mother, who is ill.”

“Stratham?” Harry repeated, he had not heard of the town.

“It is not far into Warwickshire, the journey will not be so out of our way. It is near Beecham Hill, which perhaps you have heard of.”

Harry’s stomach dropped, he had heard of it.

“Beecham Hill…” he repeated weakly, unbelieving of his bad luck.

“Yes, Beechwood Park is a great house in that area. It would be possible for us to visit it if we were so inclined.”

Harry prayed that they were not.

It took them a little over three hours upon their departing Northampton to reach Stratham, where they would be stopping around four days. They stopped first at the White Hart where they would be staying, before journeying on to the Lupin’s home where they were expected for lunch. A servant took their names and bid them wait in the passage whilst they were announced to the Lupins. They did as they were asked and listened to the unintelligible rumble of voices in the room beyond. Upon entering the room Harry observed a small frail woman situated by the fire, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and clutched in her bony hands. A sandy-haired man with an expectant smile had stood upon their entry.

“Mrs Lupin,” Sirius offered a polite bow in the elderly woman’s direction. “Always a pleasure. My godson,” here he gestured to Harry who offered his own bow, “Mr Harry Potter.”

Mrs Lupin offered her own formalities and it was here the pretence of propriety was lost. The young Mr Lupin crossed the room in a few quick strides and pulled Sirius into a tight hug.

“Sirius,” he said, his voice full of all the warmth of old friends. “It has been too long.”

“Remus,” Sirius returned in an equally familiar tone. “You remember Harry?” He asked as the two men drew apart.

Mr Lupin laughed, “Naturally, although I dare say the boy does not remember me so well.”

Harry had no recollection of ever meeting Mr Lupin before but was not inclined to say so. Lupin offered Harry a handshake, which fared only a few moments before the older man pulled him into a hug only a little less familiar than that of the exchange between himself and Sirius.

“You look so like your father,” Lupin said once he had released Harry.

“He has his mother’s eyes,” old Mrs Lupin interjected from her perch by the fire.

The three men moved to join her and Lupin admitted that it was so.

“You knew them well?” Harry asked, always yearning to hear more about his parents than the little he had gleaned from his aunt and Mr and Mrs Weasley, who had known them only distantly.

“Your father and these two ruffians were inseparable when they were boys,” Mrs Lupin said before Remus could reply. “Along with the Pettigrew boy, whatever became of him?” she asked, turning to her son.

“Peter? He married a young French girl and moved to France years ago.”

“A pity,” Mrs Lupin sighed.

From the look that Harry observed passing between Sirius and Lupin, it was not so in their eyes.

 

The lunch was a pleasant one and Mr Lupin provided Harry with enough new information about his parents that he might be satisfied for some time. Lupin was convinced to return to the public house with Sirius and Harry, although Mrs Lupin protested that she was too old to be leaving her house in the evening. Harry privately suspected that she wished to give Lupin and Sirius some time to relive their days as ‘ruffians’ as she had so called them.

The next day was spent again in the pleasant company of Mr Lupin as the three young men embarked upon a fishing trip to a lake that Remus, as he had requested Harry to call him, assured them was teeming with good trout. Tea and dinner were spent at the Lupin’s house and Harry had almost managed to forget the looming horror of being in the vicinity of Miss Parkinson until Remus mentioned Beechwood Park.

“If you have the time you ought to see the house,” he said. “It really is magnificent, and the grounds surely have no match in the whole of England.”

“I confess I have some interest in seeing the place,” Sirius replied. “We might all go tomorrow.”

“I would really rather not,” Harry said, trying not to sound obstinate.

“Why ever not?” Sirius asked dumbfounded.

“I do not wish to impose upon the Parkinsons, besides is a grand house really all that impressive?”

“I forgot you have met Miss Parkinson,” said Sirius.

“I would rather not see Miss Parkinson,” Harry confessed. “We did not part on the best of terms, I’m afraid.”

“The family is unlikely to be in residence,” Remus interjected. “They rarely are.”

“I should very much like to see Beechwood again,” Mrs Lupin chimed in, much to Harry’s chagrin.

“Heidi will know whether the house is in use,” Remus said. “I shall ask her,”

He quit the room and Harry waited in agitation for his return.

Remus returned with a pleased smile. “Good news,” he said. “Mr Parkinson and his charming daughter are away and not to return until three days hence.”

“There,” said Sirius, as though that settled the matter. “We shall all visit Beechwood Park tomorrow and will be well out of the area before Miss Parkinson and her father return.”

Harry tried to look agreeable to the compromise.

 

So it was that Harry found himself in a hired barouche beside Sirius and across from Mrs Lupin headed to Beechwood Park – the one place he had vowed to avoid at all costs.

 _She will not be there,_ he reminded himself sternly, _you will not have to meet with Miss Parkinson._

In truth, Harry’s reluctance to meet the young lady stemmed more from his indecision regarding the affair between herself and Mr Thomas than any personal feelings of dislike for the young woman.

The grounds, Harry had to admit, were breathtaking. They did indeed live up to Remus’ estimations and Harry found that he was not sorry to have joined the party.

The group was accepted into the grand entrance hall by the housekeeper, who informed them that the Master and his daughter were away but expected to return the following afternoon, but that she would be most obliged to show them around the public rooms.

“Tomorrow?” Harry echoed, “We were under the impression that they were not to return for some days still.”

“We had word from Mr Parkinson just yesterday,” the housekeeper replied. “His business in London has been concluded and he and the young Miss Parkinson will be returning sooner than planned.”

They were only lucky, Harry reflected, that their paths would not cross with this change of plans.

“We understand that Miss Parkinson only partially resides here at Beechwood,” Remus said to the housekeeper, who nodded with a melancholy smile.

“Indeed, it is a shame as she is such a darling girl and always has been,” the housekeeper replied. “The girl dotes upon her father and would not have left him if he had not insisted, but at such an age a maternal influence was most necessary in her life.”

“Perhaps if Miss Parkinson were to marry she may spend more time at home,” Remus suggested.

“Any man who loved her truly would know that it would bring the greatest happiness to her and her father.”

The housekeeper had led them from the impressive entrance hall through several parlours and sitting rooms and now showed the party into a portrait gallery. “This is the young lady herself,” she said, motioning to a large framed painting.

Harry stepped forwards to appreciate the piece in its entirety. A middle-aged man with an impressive bearing stood behind a dainty loveseat, his hand resting on the shoulder of a beautiful dark-haired woman. Seated beside her was Miss Parkinson, the resemblance to her mother was startling, although her age – which couldn’t have been more than ten years or so – left her with softer features and her dark hair was not restrained so severely as her mother’s.

“She is indeed very pretty,” Mrs Lupin praised.

“Is it a good likeness, Harry?” Sirius asked, turning his eyes from the portrait to the young man.

“It is,” Harry replied tearing his own eyes from Miss Parkinson’s depiction.

“Does the young man know Miss Parkinson?” The housekeeper asked with some pleasure.

“A little,” Harry replied, although he was not sure his estimation of Miss Parkinson’s character was at all as astute as he had previously believed it to be.

 

Presently, the party was led from the portrait gallery and down a large hallway. A door was ajar, music audible from within and Harry paused to peer into the room beyond. It was a large music room and, much to Harry’s horror, Miss Parkinson was seated at a grand pianoforte. Harry froze, but before he could withdraw Miss Parkinson looked up from the instrument and their eyes met.  
He bid a hasty retreat but was halted by the young woman’s voice.

“Mr Potter?”

Cringing at the sound Harry turned to face her. “I’m sorry,” he stumbled over his words. “We were assured that you would not be returning until tomorrow, that is we were under the impression the house was open for visitors. I – we would never have come if we had known.”

“There was a small fire in the village,” Miss Parkinson explained. “My father was called home to attend his tenants urgently. He is there now.”

“I…” but Harry had barely had the time to process this information before Miss Parkinson spoke again.

“I trust you are well? And that all those in Kingsbury are also well?”

“Yes, I thank you,” Harry replied. “Are you well, and your father?”

“Yes, we are quite well,” she replied. “And yourself?”

“I – yes,” Harry replied nonplussed and Miss Parkinson blushed.

“My godfather will be waiting for me,” Harry said after a moment of agonising silence.

“Of course, I will show you out.”

Harry protested but Miss Parkinson paid him no heed. Sirius, Remus and Mrs Lupin were waiting for Harry by the barouche, Sirius pointing down the lawns at something and in animated conversation with Remus. The three of them looked up as Harry and Miss Parkinson approached and Sirius had to visibly mask his confusion at the pair.

“Miss Parkinson,” Harry made the introductions, “May I present Mrs Lupin and her son Mr Lupin, they live in Stratham. And this is my godfather, Mr Black. This is Miss Parkinson.”

Miss Parkinson bobbed a flawless curtsy. “You must all join us for dinner whilst you are here,” she said. “My father always appreciates the company.”

“I thank you,” Harry said quickly. “But I am afraid we will not have the time.”

“That was really incredibly rude of you,” Sirius admonished Harry once the party was a safe distance from Beechwood.

Harry did not reply but he regretted his shortness with Miss Parkinson nonetheless.

 

After delivering Remus and his mother home, Harry and Sirius returned to the inn. They were to leave in the morning and so Harry ventured to his room to ensure his belongings were ready to travel. Upon returning to join Sirius is the public rooms of the inn he saw Miss Parkinson and a man he recognised to be her father conversing with his godfather. He froze, not wishing to encounter Miss Parkinson again after their awkward run-in earlier that day. As Harry watched Mr and Miss Parkinson bid Sirius goodbye and exited through the main door.

“Harry!” Sirius greeted him as Harry approached the table were Sirius sat, “You just missed Miss Parkinson and her father.”

When Harry did not reply Sirius continued.

“Her father invited us to dine with him tomorrow afternoon.”

“But we will be leaving tomorrow morning,” Harry protested.

“There is no reason we cannot delay our journey for one more day,” Sirius said. “Besides, it will give you an opportunity to become better acquainted with Miss Parkinson, she is really a most charming young lady.”

Harry had no response to this; his admission that he may have misjudged Miss Parkinson’s temperament had been made only to himself and did not mean that he was eager to spend additional time in her company. He found himself often tongue-tied in her presence as one may be in the company of one they had accused so outwardly of such an abhorrent act.

 

Harry and Sirius had just sat down to breakfast the next morning, both parties having slept later than planned due to the delaying of their departure, when a note arrived from Beechwood Park. Miss Parkinson informed the pair that if it was of no inconvenience to the two men, she would call on them for tea. A response was dispatched immediately assuring her that they would be honoured with her company and Sirius deserted his breakfast in favour of reserving a private room for the party to take tea in. Harry suggested that on this count Miss Parkinson was indeed inconveniencing them but Sirius waved off this assessment with a roll of his eyes.

“It is of little consequence, Harry,” Sirius admonished. “Reserving a private room is no bother and Miss Parkinson’s company is really most delightful. I’m afraid I do not share your dislike for the lady.”

Any residual dislike Harry may have felt for Miss Parkinson had abandoned him some time ago, but Harry found himself too stuck in his pride and previous assertions of her character to confess this fact to his godfather.

Indeed, Harry found that it was with some pleasure that he greeted Miss Parkinson for tea that afternoon. He found himself at ease in his godfather’s company and therefore not so intimidated by Miss Parkinson’s esteem. Similarly, it seemed Miss Parkinson benefitted from being away from the scrutiny of those who would judge her so harshly – as many had in Kingsbury.

 

They had been seated only fifteen or twenty minutes, engaged in a rather pleasing conversation when one of the maids knocked and entered with a letter for Harry.

“My apologies,” Harry said, glancing over the letter. “It is from the Burrow.”

Recognising Hermione’s handwriting Harry broke the seal of the letter and unfolded it to examine the contents. Hermione’s usually elegant hand was hasty causing Harry’s brow to furrow. The news the letter contained was more distressing still and Harry could not mask his affliction from his concerned audience.

“Harry?” Sirius said, “Whatever is the matter?”

“It’s Ginny!” Harry replied. He was unable to look at Miss Parkinson as he passed the letter to Sirius. “She has run away with Mr Thomas.”

“Her father has gone to London where they believe they have gone but has little hope that he will discover them,” Sirius read. “If they are not married they must be, her reputation will not survive it.”

Harry dared a glance at Miss Parkinson; his embarrassment was not of Ginny’s behaviour but that this, more than anything, exposed how badly he had misjudged her.

“I’m afraid I must leave you,” she said abruptly, standing fast enough to jostle the table. “I see that such urgent matters will prevent you from joining us for dinner; I will make your excuses to my father.”

Of course, Ginny’s actions would not only tarnish her own reputation but that of her family as well, and Miss Parkinson would not wish to remain in companionship with one as close the Weasleys as Harry.

“Of course,” Harry said, standing also. “I will see you out.”

“I trust,” he said as he bid Miss Parkinson farewell and handed her into her carriage, “that you will not repeat what you know of Ginny’s predicament in company.”

Miss Parkinson’s face smoothed in a way that Harry knew meant that he had offended her. “Of course not,” she replied. “Miss Weasley’s misfortune is already large enough.”

If Harry did not know of Mr Thomas’ past he might find this an impertinent remark, but as it was he knew it was simply a true one and allowed Miss Parkinson to leave without further comment.

 

“I must return to Kingsbury immediately,” Harry said as soon as he re-joined Sirius in the private parlour.

“Take the post-chaise directly to Hertfordshire, I will ride straight to London to offer my assistance to Mr Weasley in locating them.”

Both men were soon on their way, their belongings having been mostly packed in preparation for their departure the next morning, and a note was dispatched to the Lupins to inform them of their untimely departure.

Despite the speed of the post-chaise and the slightness of its load without Sirius and with much of their luggage being sent on after them, it was still a ways to Hertfordshire and soon Harry found it to be getting dark, he resigned to sleep in the carriage not wishing to delay his journey to stop, and dozed fitfully and uncomfortably for some hours.

Despite the late hour of his arrival, there was light in the Burrow and all the brothers as well as Hermione were seated in the drawing room when he entered.

“Goodness!” Hermione started, rising from her seat beside Charlie to embrace Harry, “We did not expect you to return so hastily. Is Sirius not with you?”

“He has gone directly to London,” Harry replied pouring himself a brandy from the crystal decanter. “What happened? Your letter was so brief.” He asked once they were all seated.

“It was so unexpected!” Hermione exclaimed, “We rose this morning and Ginny was nowhere to be seen. We supposed she had gone for a morning walk or ride without telling anyone, it is not out of character for her, but the servants had not seen her. Then we discovered the note she had left in her bedroom.”

“We had no inkling to the fact that she and Mr Thomas were particularly close.” Percy chimed in.

“My mother is simply beside herself, her poor nerves are frayed to breaking,” Charlie added.

“I must tend on her,” Hermione said standing. “Now that Ginny is not here to do so. I will take her a cup of tea, I am sure she will not be asleep.”

“I’m sure none of us will sleep well tonight,” Harry agreed. “But we can be of no use sitting up speculating to the crack of dawn.”

A general noise of agreement was given and the brothers began to disperse to their beds. Harry followed Hermione into the parlour where she rang for a pot of tea.

“There is no doubt, now,” Harry started, “as to the truth of Miss Parkinson’s tale.”

“Indeed not,” Hermione agreed. “Do you believe we ought to have made Mr Thomas’ character known?”

“We could not have done so without exposing Miss Greengrass’ humiliation, and it would not have been prudent to do so when we were in doubt to the truth of the situation.”

“Still,” Hermione protested. “We may have stopped this.”

“I cannot understand Mr Thomas’ design on Ginny, she has no fortune. He cannot be under any illusions that she does with six elder brothers.”

Hermione shook her head, “I agree, it is unfathomable.”

“What of you and Charlie?” Harry asked, “If Ginny is not found it will not be only her reputation stained.”

Hermione sighed and ran a hand across her forehead. “I will not deny that I have considered such an outcome. I am unwilling to make any such decision before the situation has played out.”

“If they are discovered they will have to be married,” Harry said.

“And if they are not I will have to return to my parents.” She countered.

They were silent for a minute before Hermione spoke again, “What of you? Your own reputation is not so precarious but this spectacle cannot help it.”

Despite himself, thoughts of Miss Parkinson crossed Harry’s mind. “I grant I am of an age where the thought of marriage is not a displeasing one,” he said. “Perhaps I will head down to London for the Season. I know that Sirius would welcome my company.”

“If there is no one for you in Kingsbury perhaps that would be for the best no matter the outcome of Ginny’s ignorance.”

The maid returned with the tea tray before Harry could reply and Hermione bid him goodnight before carrying it up to Mrs Weasley.

Bitterly, Harry discovered his true feelings for Miss Parkinson, just as Ginny’s juvenile display made the attending to any such feelings impossible. He felt tenfold all of the impropriety which had made a match between Bill and Miss Greengrass so impossible. Whatever his feelings for Miss Parkinson, he had discovered them too late for any steps to be taken, as much was clear in her hasty departure from his company upon the news of Ginny’s departure.

 

The inhabitants of the Burrow rose early the next morning, it seemed sleep eluded all of them and Hermione, Charlie and Percy were all seated in the breakfast room when Harry gave up feigning sleep and ventured downstairs.

“Are you sure my mother will not take breakfast?” Charlie asked Hermione as Harry poured himself a cup of tea.

“She is adamant that her nerves are too weak for her to leave her bedchamber,” Hermione replied resting a comforting hand on her fiancé’s arm. “Harry, I do believe she would wish to see you.” She added turning to him.

“Now?” Harry asked, but he was already standing from the breakfast table.

He knocked hesitantly on Mrs Weasley’s bedroom door. “Ma’am?” He called hesitantly.

“Oh Harry dear, is that you?” Came Mrs Weasley’s faint reply, “Do come in.”

She was lounging on the chaise, the curtains only half pulled. To her credit, she did not look at all well.

“We are all most concerned about Ginny, but I’m sure it would ease all of our worries if you would join us for breakfast. Hermione tells me you have hardly eaten since Ginny left.”

“I cannot eat! My nerves are too weak, I’m afraid my stomach cannot handle it.”

“Surely a cup of tea at the least would be most beneficial, I know it would satisfy Hermione so to see you up.”

“She is the most darling daughter,” Mrs Weasley replied tearfully. “To think she has been so much more dutiful to me than my own negligent daughter. You of all people must be taking the news as hard as I, Harry.” She added, “I know that you and Ginevra were very close.”

Harry did not correct Mrs Weasley’s assumption. “Indeed, her departure is a great shock, but for us to fall to pieces over it surely cannot help.”

“I suppose you are right,” she replied requesting Harry’s assistance to stand. “I suppose some tea may settle my stomach a little.”

Some tea, it turned out, was accompanied by several slices of toast and a little bacon, which the servants were prevailed upon to prepare.

“I grant you are right Harry, indeed my nerves feel much settled by a little tea and a nibble of toast,” Mrs Weasley said once she had finished.

 

The day proceeded as a pantomime of a normal day; the twins and Ron galloped out for a ride not long after breakfast, Percy, Bill, Charlie and Harry all left the house on various errands and visits, and Hermione and Mrs Weasley retired to the parlour to embroider and await any news.

No such news was forthcoming and another restless night was upon them before they knew it.

It wasn’t until the following afternoon that the clatter of hooves was heard and all those who had remained at the Burrow that day rushed out to see Mr Weasley dismounting his horse and handing it off to the groom.

“Papa? Have they been discovered?” Percy asked impatiently as Mr Weasley ushered the group back into the house.

“Yes, we were fortunate enough to discover them fairly quickly.”

“Were they married?”

“They were not.”

At this Mrs Weasley let out a dramatic sob and sank into an armchair.

“They were not,” Mr Weasley continued. “But now are. They married yesterday afternoon; Mr Black was good enough to allow us all the use of his townhouse last night.”

“Ginny, married!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed, “Oh to think of it! At only sixteen, oh Mrs Brown _will_ be jealous.”

“Mr Thomas agreed to marry Ginevra on the condition that I provide them with £100 a year,” Mr Weasley said.

“And you agreed?” Ron asked, aghast.

“What else could I do? Ginny’s reputation would have been tarnished had I not; not to mention all of yours would be stained by association.”

“One hundred pounds hardly seems like a large sum,” Bill observed.

“No, I rather fear we are forever indebted to Mr Black for such an outcome,” Mr Weasley agreed wearily.

“You think Sirius put up the funds to secure the match?” Harry asked incredulously.

“He must have,” Mr Weasley replied. “Any man who would marry Ginevra for a mere £100 a year is a fool indeed, and I do not think Mr Thomas such a fool.”

“And why should he not provide for her?” Mrs Weasley interrupted, “We have cared for Harry as our own son for years now and Mr Black has no children of his own for whom to provide. When are they to visit us?” she asked, her nervous affliction immediately recovered.

“Visit us?” Mr Weasley said, “I will not have that man in this house.”

“Oh, Mr Weasley! Our daughter is married, we must receive her and her husband.”

“No.” Mr Weasley said, “I will not hear of it.”

Mrs Weasley, however, would not hear of her daughter and her new husband _not_ being received at the Burrow and would, eventually, have her way.

 

Before Ginny and her Mr Thomas could make any such visit the Burrow, however, a much more surprising visit was received. Miss Greengrass, accompanied by her mother, paid a call on Mrs Weasley and Hermione extending the long overdue dinner invitation to the entire family.

“Of course,” Mrs Weasley replied barely concealing her excitement. “We would be delighted to dine at Kingsdown. I trust you have heard my daughter was recently married, we are expecting a visit from her and her new husband to be paid soon.”

“Yes,” Mrs Greengrass replied. “Our sincerest congratulations on the happy occasion. We must endeavour to fix upon a date before your daughter is in town and monopolising your time. Will she be spending Christmas with you?”

“We do indeed hope she will. Her husband, Mr Thomas, is expecting to be transferred to Brighton imminently but we hope he will at least be allowed the holiday to spend with his new family.”

 

“They are expecting Miss Parkinson to return sooner than originally expected,” Hermione told the gathered inhabitants of the Burrow later at dinner. “She and her father will reportedly be spending their Christmas at Kingsdown rather than Beecham Hill.”

“I do hope Ginny will join us for Christmas,” Mrs Weasley sighed, her mind miles from Miss Parkinson’s affairs. “It would be so pleasurable to spend the holiday with her and Mr Thomas.”

 

The family did indeed dine at Kingsdown later that week, and although the interactions between Miss Greengrass and Bill were hesitant, it was clear to all that the affection between them had not diminished and that any obstacle that had been was no longer standing in their way.

“The marriage of three of my children,” Mrs Weasley sighed happily. “I cannot imagine anything more joyous.”

Ginny’s return to Kingsbury the following month was, in her eyes, a victorious one.

“We passed Romilda and her mother in her carriage on the way,” Ginny said as she handed off her bonnet giggling. “And I removed my glove and let my hand lay just so that she might see the ring.”

Her intended audience for this remark, knowing of Mr Thomas’ true character, struggled to find such amusement in the situation but greeted Ginny with as much gaiety as they could muster.

 

Thankfully, Hermione managed to avoid a private conversation with Mr Thomas until just before dinner when Ginny held up the family’s sitting down by insisting that as a married woman she should no longer sit so far down the table.

“Miss Granger,” Mr Thomas approached her with a polite incline of the head. “I trust that you have been well since our last meeting.”

“I have, thank you.” Hermione replied shortly before adding, finding herself unable to be rude even to such a detestable man, “And I hope you have been well also.”

“Of course, and my sincerest congratulations on your own engagement.”

“Thank you.”

“I understand Miss Parkinson will be returning to Kingsbury for Christmas,” he continued. “Will you be meeting with her whilst she is down?”

 _He means to discern if we will be made aware of his true character_ , Hermione realised. _He must not know that Miss Parkinson told Harry the whole story weeks ago._

“I doubt we will,” Hermione demurred. “Although we expect to be much in Miss Greengrass’ company, I am sure Miss Parkinson will wish to spend as much time with her father as possible before he returns to Beecham come the New Year.”

“Will Miss Parkinson not accompany her father home?”

“I do not pretend to know of her exact plans,” Hermione said. “Look, Mr Weasley is sitting down. We must join them.”

 

Despite the general distaste for Ginny’s recent nuptials amongst the residents of the Burrow, Ginny would not be dissuaded from talking in great detail about her newfound happiness. In general, she was paid little attention by all those who could avoid doing so. It was, therefore, unfortunate for Harry and Hermione who were seated either side of each of the relevant parties, Hermione to Mr Thomas’ right and Harry on Ginny’s left, and thus unable to avoid the topic.

“And we nearly thought that I might have to stand up with any young lady we could persuade to lend us her time attending to me if Miss Parkinson had not been present!” Ginny finished her uninterrupted tirade and took a mouthful of her meat pie.

This caught Harry’s attention, “Miss Parkinson?” He asked, putting down his fork.

“Oh, but I was instructed to say nothing!” Ginny giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, “It was her father who discovered us. They were both at the wedding.” She confided.

 _Why on earth would Miss Parkinson and her father be at Ginny’s wedding?_ Harry wondered, recalling Miss Parkinson’s hasty retreat when they had learned of Ginny’s running away. Could he have mistaken the situation so entirely? What possible reason could Miss Parkinson have for protecting Ginny’s reputation other than the reputations she would be saving by extension?

Only a month previously Harry had realised both his affections for Miss Parkinson and, on the same day, the impossibility of any attachment forming between the two. Now he scarcely allowed himself to hope that such feelings may be returned.

 

The moment he could excuse himself Harry did so and penned a note to Sirius apologising for his impertinence but begging to know whether his Godfather had paid a dowry to Mr Thomas on Ginny’s behalf. Was it at all possible that Miss Parkinson had not only enlisted her father to aid in the search for Ginny and Mr Thomas but also in the securing of their marriage?

 

Thankfully, he did not have to wait long for a response, for he received a letter from his godfather only three days later denying any monetary involvement in the match.

“Has Miss Parkinson returned from Beecham?” Harry asked Hermione, still clutching the note from Sirius.

“I… I don’t know,” she replied in obvious confusion at his urgency. “It is a little early for a call either way, do you not think?” She added putting down her toast and looking at him with concern.

“I must head out,” Harry said distractedly. “A little air I think, will do me good.”

“Harry -?” Hermione tried calling after him but he had already exited the room, allowing the door to slam in his wake.

 

Harry saddled a horse in record speed as was soon galloping the short distance to Kingsdown. Upon his arrival, he dismounted and handed the reins to a shocked groom in one smooth motion before mounting the steps to the house and knocking on the door. Only then did Harry realise how dishevelled he must look, and was attempting to tame his wild hair when the butler answered the door.

“I must see Miss Parkinson,” Harry announced, striding into the entrance hall before the butler could shut the door on him. “It is a matter of the utmost importance.”

“Miss Parkinson is not here, sir,” the butler replied attempting to stop Harry from moving any further into the house.

Harry’s stomach dropped an inch, “She has not returned from Beecham? I was lead to understand she and her father would be in Kingsbury for Christmas.”

“She has returned, sir, but…”

“It’s quite alright, Jenkins,” a voice came from behind Harry.

Harry turned to see Pansy descending the grand stairs, clearly dressed for the outdoors.

“I will see Mr Potter in the morning room before I head out,” she said setting the gloves she was holding on a side table.

“Of course,” Jenkins bowed and stepped back allowing Miss Parkinson to lead the way.

 

“I trust you will extend my sincerest congratulations to Mrs Thomas on her marriage, Mr Potter,” Miss Parkinson said once they were alone. “Won’t you sit down?”

“No, thank you,” Harry replied, suddenly reminded of the last time he had paid an urgent call on Miss Parkinson. It seemed the young lady was remembering the event in question herself as her expression had shifted.

“I am sure, however, that I need not pass your felicitations on to Ginny, as she has already received them in person,” he added.

Miss Parkinson looked shocked for a moment before composing herself.

“We have seen much of Miss Greengrass and her family since my return from my excursion with Mr Black,” Harry continued when she did not speak. “Am I to assume that your presence in London was in aid of the happiness of your good friend?”

“My concerns for Daphne’s attachments are not what they were,” Miss Parkinson confessed carefully. “I find they cannot be when my own would cause such concerns to be hypocritical.”

Harry felt his heart swell, “So your pursuit of Ginny…?”

“Was for you,” she said simply. “Surely, you must know that.”

He let out a short breath, “I had scarcely dared hope.” He replied, “When you left the White Hart I feared that you, that my company was no longer…”

“I returned straight to my father and told him of what had happened,” she said. “You recall he helped to locate Astoria when she ran away with the very same scoundrel. Unfortunately, he did not discover them quickly enough that their marriage was avoidable.”

“I must repay him,” Harry insisted taking a step towards the young woman.

“No,” she took his hands in hers. “I did not do so out of selflessness. Indeed, my motivations were quite the opposite.”

Harry looked down at their clasped hands and then into her eyes, “I – you have said too much. I must now tell you that I love you; most ardently.”

“Despite all that I have done?” She asked, “I cannot think of my actions towards your family without the deepest embarrassment.”

“More recent actions have entirely made up for anything that has passed. My accusations towards your person, however…”

“Were misguided but rightly deserved,” she cut him off with a small laugh. “Perhaps we have now both atoned for our misdeeds over these past months.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked upwards, “I now ask only one more thing of you.”

Pansy’s forehead creased slightly but the expression was replaced by a tearful smile when, not releasing her hands, Harry lowered himself onto one knee in front of her.

 

“To think not one of us had an idea of your affection for her!” Mrs Weasley repeated for what must have been the fourth or fifth time that evening, “And that there are so many weddings to look forward to! I doubt any mother has ever experienced as much joy as I have at the marriage of three of my own children and you two dears, Hermione and Harry!”

“I believe I was as much in the dark to my affection for her as you, ma’am,” Harry replied, sharing a grin with Hermione as she poured Mrs Weasley another glass of wine.

“She is a dear girl, is not she?” Mrs Weasley continued, “I always thought so. If she is a little quiet it is only because she is reserved, the sweet girl.”

“If Harry loves her then she cannot be anything short of perfection,” Hermione agreed. “Besides, she is Daphne’s closest friend and we are so fond of Daphne it is only logical that Miss Parkinson should be just as agreeable.”

“Have you told Sirius?” Mr Weasley asked setting down his knife and fork.

“I have written to him,” Harry replied. “I do not expect a response for some days still.”

“The only sadness is that Ginny and Mr Thomas had to leave and will be unable to return for the weddings!” Mrs Weasley lamented.

“Indeed,” Harry agreed, although he was privately relieved and was sure that, at the very least, Hermione shared his sentiments.

“One of you lot will have to find a lovely young bride next,” Mrs Weasley said sternly glaring at Percy, the twins and Ron in turn.

“Christ,” Ron grumbled. “You’d have thought four weddings in a year would be enough to satisfy her.”

Harry laughed at the scene before him, he loved his family deeply – for that is what they were to him – but the adventure of a new family, one that belonged wholly to himself, was one that he was eager to embark upon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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